


A Nightingale Sang in Soho

by GaHoolianGirl



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anniversary, Because Aziraphale is a very very old grandpa, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gramophone, M/M, Might give you tooth decay from all the love, Not really a songfic though the song is playing in universe, Post-Canon, Romance, Slow Dancing, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 05:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19222108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaHoolianGirl/pseuds/GaHoolianGirl
Summary: “Ah, you’ve busted out that old boy? Must be quite the occasion,” he said, grinning not only on his face but in his voice, “I can’t imagine what it might be.”“Oh hush! We may be as old as time itself, but I’d be damned if either of us forgot.”His smile only grew larger, “I’ve told you, angel, that that’s not so bad once you get used to it.”On one sentimental evening, in a small bookshop in Soho, theres gramophone, a timeless tune, and an angel and demon in love...





	A Nightingale Sang in Soho

**Author's Note:**

> This...might give you cavities. I just like these sappy old farts and wanted to imagine them celebrating their little anniversary.

The actual date of any given day was of little consequence to Aziraphale, as he was an immortal being who would very likely live to the end of eternity. There were only a handful of occasions on which even knew the month, let alone any of the minutia which humans used to govern their daily activities. He enjoyed many of their little customs and quirks, but he would go absolutely mad if he attempted to live his life by a limiting twenty four hour schedule.

There was, however, one date he remembered, and would most definitely never forget.

October 29th.

While that might not sound correct to you, Aziraphale could assure you that it was quite right. He had never been more sure of anything, in fact. The world had begun 6022 years, seven days ago, but his life had truly began on this day, when he met a certain demon going then by the name Crawley.

(He wouldn’t necessarily call it their “anniversary”, but if you were to ask anyone else, they would say it was so with little hesitation)

When that sentimental time arrived after the aversion of Armageddon, they simply _had_ to celebrate. In preparation, Aziraphale had taken out his most precious vintage bottles, and unearthed every record he happened to possess. While it nowhere rivalled his collection of books, but he had a sizable amount, all from year of release, of course. He hadn’t the pleasure of knowing nearly as many musicians as he did authors, but he held just as much respect for their art.

Sifting through the albums, a particular title catching his eye. Ahhh, dear Vera. He sadly never got to know the woman herself, but he quite enjoyed to tune into the radio to hear her songs. One in particular, he thought, would be quite fitting.

It was the angel’s lucky day (of course it was), as Crowley walked in just around his 40th crank or so, just as the sun had finished setting.  While their true meeting was fairly early in the morning, they’d both agreed they preferred the mood of an evening rendezvous.

“Ah, you’ve busted out that old boy? Must be quite the occasion,” he said, grinning not only on his face but in his voice, “I can’t imagine what it might be.”

“Oh hush! We may be as old as time itself, but I’d be damned if either of us forgot.”

His smile only grew larger, “I’ve told you, angel, that that’s not so bad once you get used to it.”

No longer possessing the heart to take offence to that comment, Aziraphale offered his hand, which Crowley gladly took. Gramophone, wine? The demon of course knew what the angel was offering, without any words. Was he a bit concerned? Indeed, as the bookshop seemed a touch small for the gavotte, but he there were few cases where he didn’t enjoy his time spent with Aziraphale.

With the hand that wasn’t tightly grasping Crowley’s, Aziraphale slipped the record onto the turntable and pushed the needle down.

The sound of whimsical flutes started to flow throughout the miraculously closed shop...

_That certain night_

_The night we met_

_There was magic abroad in the air_

_There were angels dining at the Ritz_

_And a nightingale sang in Berkeley square_

“I haven’t heard this one in quite a bit! Or this version, anyhow,” he smiled softly, “Rather fitting.”

Looking rather pleased with himself, Aziraphale gently tugged, urging the demon forward, “Would you care to dance with me? I know they say angels don’t dance, but I think under your dastardly influence, dear boy, I’ve broken so many rules another ought not hurt.”

Well, color Crowley surprised, but most certainly do not color him displeased. He needed little encouraging, pulling Aziraphale close to him, resting his other hand on the small of his back. The angel was positively glowing as he reached a hand up to rest on the other’s shoulder. They slowly started to step side to side.

_I may be right I may be wrong_

_But I'm perfectly willing to swear_

“I’d say this is a bit soft for you, Crowley. Slow dancing on a weekday evening with your...hereditary enemy? Scandalous.”

_That when you turned and smiled at me_

_A nightingale sang in Berkeley square_

Though that comment was prime for teasing, Crowley instead chose sincerity. If an angel could dance, than a demon could confess, “You make me soft, angel.” The smile he received was radiant.

_The moon that lingered over London town_

_Poor puzzled moon he wore a frown_

“You were never very good at being anything else, dearest,” Aziraphale said, with such a fondness in his voice it was nearly painful. He pressed even closer against the other, soaking up his warmth, the fact that it wasn’t really real the furthest thing from his mind, “Neither of us were. So dreadful, how sharp they wanted us both to be.”

_How could he know we two were so in love_

_The whole damned world seemed upside down_

“Good thing then, that we made a game out of disappointing them. If ‘ol Beelzebub or Gabriel saw this, they’d cark it right on the spot,” he grinned, swaying their bodies to the music a little harder, “What a nice thought.”

_The streets of town were paved with stars_

_It was such a romantic affair_

_And as we kissed and said goodnight_

_A nightingale sang in Berkeley square_

“You know, angel,” more vulnerability than he would have liked seeped into Crowley’s voice, but he pressed on, “I few times, right before it all, ya’ know, ‘went down’, I was worried that...” Aziraphale silenced him by resting his head into the demon’s jacket as their dance took them into a brief rotation. He looked up, eyes wide and wet, “I know. I am so, truly, ardently sorry. While I don’t regret not running away, I do so regret the things I said to you.”

_How strange it was_

_How sweet and strange_

_There was never a dream to compare_

_To those hazy crazy nights we met_

_And a nightingale sang in Berkeley square_

It was strange to hear such things from his angel in such a low, pained tone. He didn’t like it, “I forgive you. Well, forgave. Have forgiven. You know.”

“Forgiving is supposed to be my job, I thought,” there was no bite in the statement, only mirth, “I’m very glad it all worked out as it did. Though Her plans are ineffable, I think you may have been right, that night. This might be how it is all...supposed to be. Meant to be, even.”

_Ah this heart of mine_

_Loud and fast_

_Like a merry-go-round in a fair_

Crowley’s heart, as artificial and superfluous to his actual function as was, started to beat wildly. If Heaven and Hell didn’t want them to assimilate, why pay such attention to detail like that? The only good the blood in his veins did him was run hot when Aziraphale kissed him, all skin did was tingle when their hands brushed...

_We would dance cheek to cheek_

_And a nightingale sang in Berkeley square_

Instead of replying, he laid his cheek against Aziraphale’s, both of them enjoying the sensation. They moved against each other in relative rhythm with the song, feet only sometimes stepping on each other.

Practice makes perfect, after all.

_The dawn came stealing up_

_All gold and blue_

_To interrupt our rendez-vous_

_I still remember how you smiled and said_

_Was that a dream or was it true?_

As much as Crowley loved him, silence was not a thing Aziraphale was good at maintaining, “I’ve not spent much of my time dreaming- I do not enjoy sleep as you do, dear,- but if I did, I would hope this is what they’re like.”

“You’ve got a silver tongue when you like to, angel. I wouldn’ta thought you had it in you.”

“Even after all these years, I think we both might be full of surprises, yet.”

_Our homeward step was just as light_

_As the dancing feet of astaire_

_And like an echo far away_

They both knew the song well, and knew that it would soon come to an end, but neither was quite ready to part. Their movement slowed, as if maybe, just maybe, the tempo of the song would adjust itself to their feelings. Sadly, they did have the reality bending powers such as Adam did, and time marched on.

So they did what they always did when they needed to prolong a moment.

They kissed. Sweetly, slowly...it was so human, so meaningless that it became the most powerful, impactful gesture they could make. It was a symbol of everything they were not _supposed_ to be, in the eyes of the factions to which they previously belonged, and so was a symbol of everything they were _destined_ to be.

_And a nightingale sang in Berkeley square_

_And a nightingale sang in Berkeley square_

_That night in Berkeley square._

They didn’t stop with the music (kissing or dancing). They lingered, enjoying the closeness they shared. No other angel or demon, in the history of creation, shared what they did, and with 6022 years of relationship building under their belts, they’d be willing to bet unimaginable sums that no humans did either. When they finally found the willpower to part, it was with broad, earnest smiles on their faces. The kind of smile shared by soulmates.

Which, of course they were. You didn’t live the existence they did without knowing such for certain. Knowing God’s wily ways, she likely designed them for each other, not they were complaining. It was nice to have somewhere that one truly _belonged_.

“Happy six thousand and twenty second,” Crowley said, affectionately tugging Aziraphale’s bowtie into place, “My angel.”

Love, real love, not the theoretical pure and all encompassing love that humans prescribed to angels, dripped from Aziraphale’s voice, “My dear boy. My wily serpent. My demon.”

They felt compelled to share another kiss, and there was no longer anything holding them back from that temptation.

Time, in of itself as a concept, meant nothing to two celestial beings who were designed to exist as long as there was...existence. But when you make the magical discovery that humans were on to something with this love thing, then suddenly...they looked forward to any day they could spend with each other.•

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! The singer is Vera Lynn, I chose her since her version of the song seems to be the most famous.  
> [Heres a link to the song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xTeiYN_Vq6E) and [the lyrics](https://lyricsplayground.com/alpha/songs/a/anightingalesanginberkeleysquare.html).
> 
> Also, for some reason I wanted ensure the gramophone bit was accurate,[so heres the site I used for that](https://www.antiquephono.org/basic-antique-phonograph-operational-tips/).
> 
> Let me know what you thought!


End file.
